


To simply feel

by Lilibet



Series: October 2020 prompts [15]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, M/M, Obi-Wan is hot for his master, and a sprinkling of smut, and goddammit so am i, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet
Summary: Obi-Wan is...not having a good day.Hypothermia wasn’t exactly high on the list of things he wanted to experience, but it seems it’s happening whether he wants it to or not.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: October 2020 prompts [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949062
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104





	To simply feel

**Author's Note:**

> For the angstober day 15 prompt "cold" even though this is decidedly not angsty.
> 
> Featuring some absolutely amazing art by [kyber-erso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyber_erso/pseuds/kyber-erso), she's incredible and I'm so blessed by her talent!

Obi-Wan is...not having a good day.

Hypothermia wasn’t exactly high on the list of things he wanted to experience, but it seems it’s happening whether he wants it to or not.

A very ill-timed ship malfunction had led to him and Qui-Gon stuck in the middle of nowhere on an outer-rim planet with no communications, no engines, and, most importantly, no heating. Obi-Wan would have happily had this happen on any other planet except this one. Hell, he’d take tattooine if he could. But no, they had to be on a planet with sub-zero night-time temperatures that was barely inhabited.

This series of unfortunate events has led him to his current scenario. One in which he is cuddled up with Qui-Gon, completely encompassed by his very sparsely clothed body under a blanket.

Now, Obi-Wan’s dreamt of this scenario many times before, but he has to say that a life and death situation isn’t exactly how he pictured it happening.

Qui-Gon is like a human furnace, barely feeling the cold as night settled in. But Obi-Wan isn’t, and barely an hour into the night he’d begun violently shivering and unable to stop his teeth from chattering as he huddled in the corner of the ship. He’d batted off Qui-Gon’s concern until his master had deflected his protests and put forward the incredibly and annoyingly logical argument that it would be better for them both if they shared body warmth.

Obi-Wan had been fairly certain that he’d been well on his way towards hypothermia by that point, and the tempting possibility of being surround by Qui-Gon’s warmth had made the decision far too alluring. After a token protest and Qui-Gon’s classic done-with-your-shit eyebrow raise, Obi-Wan had relented.

The squeak that left him when Qui-Gon immediately began disrobing had been as mortifying as the spark of arousal that took root in his gut. Now wasn’t the time to get excited, so he’d busied himself finding blankets in an effort to hide the flaming blush on his cheeks (which he was surprised he could even muster).

Now, firmly ensconced in Qui-Gon’s embrace, Obi-Wan has seen the error of his ways. Because he’s so completely head over heels for his master that suddenly having him in a way he’s dreamt of for _years_ , and knowing it is only out of necessity rather than want, cuts him far more than it should.

Qui-Gon’s scent is all-consuming, his body firm against Obi-Wan’s back. His hand is absentmindedly playing with the end of Obi-Wan’s padawan braid, and every slight tug he gives sends sparks zinging down Obi-Wan’s spine straight to his cock.

He shifts try to hide the growing situation in his pants until he finds a comfortable position, and then closes his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep. The quicker morning comes, the quicker they can fix the ship and leave this planet so Obi-Wan can go hide in mortification in the privacy of his own bedroom.

“Sleep, padawan.”

The deep voice vibrates through Obi-Wan’s back as much as it rumbles in his ear, and Qui-Gon mistakes Obi-Wan’s shiver as one from the cold, shuffling closer until there is nothing between them.

Obi-Wan screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly in an attempt to control his rabbiting heartbeat. He vainly attempts to slip into a deep meditation to calm himself, but only succeeds in achieving a light one. His mind only skimming over the surface of a still lake instead of delving into the serenity of the deep.

\--

Sometime later, Obi-Wan finds himself drawn out of his light meditation by nothing other than a dead arm. Qui-Gon is breathing deeply behind him, always able to sleep no matter where or what position he’s in. It’s a talent that has both amused and frustrated Obi-Wan in equal measure over the years. Oddly enough, he finds he’ll miss it when his soon-to-be knighting comes around.

Subtly, he shifts to try and free his arm from underneath him without waking Qui-Gon. He’s a very deep sleeper, but Obi-Wan knows from experience that Qui-Gon can snap into wakefulness at the slightest of intrusions when on missions. Always on guard and ready.

It proves more difficult than expected, Qui-Gon’s arm heavy where it’s slung over his waist and his breath distracting as it tickles the hair on the back of his neck.

When he finally gets his arm free, he’s too busy flexing it to realise Qui-Gon has awoken. A hand clamps down on his hip.

“Stop. Moving.”

The growled words are husky with sleep and Obi-Wan has to fight the moan that suddenly threatens to escape his throat. Qui-Gon’s voice is stupidly arousing on a normal day, so having him growl roughly in his ear while he’s wrapped in his arms and practically naked is more than Obi-Wan’s addled brain can handle right now. He’s almost positive he’d be swooning if he wasn’t already lying down.

The grip on his hip tightens and only when he stills does Obi-Wan realise he’d still been moving.

“Sorry, Master.”

He cringes at how breathy his voice sounds and unconsciously shifts again before freezing when he feels an unmistakable hardness digging into his ass.

“Padawan.”

The warning is pitched low, and Obi-Wan can hear the beginnings of a groan at the end of the word before Qui-Gon cuts himself off and swallows hard.

In the darkness of the ship and the warmth of their makeshift cocoon, Obi-Wan feels bold. It’s almost as if they’re in an alternate reality, and whatever happens here will be burnt away by the light of the morning sun as if it never happened.

Obi-Wan blames that for what he does next.

Purposefully, and with clear intent that Qui-Gon may as well be smacked in the face with it, Obi-Wan grinds his ass back against Qui-Gon’s cock.

This time, Qui-Gon lets out his groan and buries his face in the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. The hand still on Obi-Wan’s hip flexes but doesn’t push him away. It doesn’t pull him closer either. It simply stays there, neutral, letting Obi-Wan decide what happens next.

“Obi-Wan...,”

Qui-Gon’s voice is weaker now, uncertain.

Obi-Wan shushes him and silently pries Qui-Gon’s fingers off his hip to press his palm over Obi-Wan’s erection, a blatant invitation if there was one.

“Just feel,” Obi-Wan breathes, “You’re always telling me to live in the moment after all, Master.”

“Imp,” Qui-Gon growls and squeezes him.

Obi-Wan moans and starts grinding his hips, pushing back against Qui-Gon’s rocking hips and then up against his hand. Qui-Gon pants into his neck, placing sloppy kisses to the soft skin as they rock together under the cover of darkness.

They climb the peaks of their pleasure, Qui-Gon now nibbling on the side of Obi-Wan’s neck (and even though he shouldn’t, Obi-Wan hopes there will be a mark there tomorrow morning), until they tumble over the edge.

Obi-Wan basks in the afterglow flowing freely back and forth across their bond. In time, they return to themselves and the reality of their situation. He turns in Qui-Gon’s arms, grimacing at the sticky mess in his pants, to greet the hesitant face of his master.

Obi-Wan feels as unsure as Qui-Gon looks, but he’s tired of pretending that his master is just his master. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss to Qui-Gon’s pliant lips, chaste in comparison to what they’ve just done, before pulling back to simply smile tiredly at him.

Qui-Gon stares slack-jawed at him for a minute (a minute in which Obi-Wan silently panics in a way he will completely deny) before he too, smiles. A hand snakes around the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and Qui-Gon brings their foreheads together.

It is easy to forget there is a world outside of the little one they’ve crafted as they breathe together quietly, eyes closed and basking in the love emanating from them both.

They will talk in the morning, when the cold light of day intrudes and they will be forced to reconcile what this means with their duty as Jedi, as master and padawan.

But right here, right now, words are not needed.

Everything they need to know is simply felt.


End file.
